When my phone vibrated, I was staring at a pile of reminder notes in a daze. The buzzing sound was like a giant fly trapped in a glass bottle, hitting the transparent barrier in vain. The bookstore I opened is called "Zi Li Jian Jian", which sounds literary and artistic, but is actually just a half-dead ancient book sales shop. In this era, insisting on selling only paper books, especially those obscure vertical layout wire-bound books, is almost equivalent to commercial suicide. The words "Teacher Zhang" danced on the screen.
